Abernathy's Law
by RC fic
Summary: Preseries AU. John takes some time from hunting to let Dean finish high school in one town. At the beginning of his senior year, Dean meets a kid who says he's having dreams of Dean's murder. SamDean slash please don't read if this bothers you.
1. Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I won't be updating this story here until I have time to come back to it and write a genfic arc. However, it is completed in my livejournal (clocking in at 10 chapters- 19,000 words) as a Sam/Dean slash fic. If you would like to read that, the link to my lj is in my profile. Thanks.

---

"Not gonna need you at the shop today, after all-" John smiled at his son's delighted whoop, "but I do want you to get in some target practice, okay?"

"Yes sir," Dean looked at his dad hopefully, "Does that mean I can take the Impala?" 

"I don't see why not, but you'd better be in before I get home tonight. You've got school tomorrow and I want you to get some sleep."

"Yeah, all right. Thanks, Dad!"

John made a half-hearted attempt to ruffle Dean's hair as he passed on his way out. He felt like he did so little for his son, but Dean was always appreciative. He was a good boy and John wished he could give him more, but was doing the best he could. He'd realized that high school was traumatic enough for kids with a stable home life. He couldn't keep dragging Dean from school to school; he had to make some changes. He'd decided on this small town just outside of Austin for a couple of reasons. The first being that there was some interesting paranormal activity in the area and it didn't necessarily appear to be malignant. The second being that this is where Mary had grown up and John had good memories of his wife's home town. He felt close to her here.

Dean had been almost ecstatic when John told him his plan. He'd never lived anywhere longer than a year. His enthusiasm for the idea had been somewhat tempered when they'd arrived in Round Rock. It wasn't exactly what he'd been hoping for, but Dean was nothing if not flexible. They'd lived there for two years now and Dean had settled in very well.

As his day job, John was a partner in an auto body shop where Dean also worked part time, after school and on weekends. Dean had turned seventeen this year and John felt comfortable leaving him on his own for a few days. He'd started hunting again when the job wasn't too far from home. Both he and Dean had returned to hunting during the summers. Thankfully, the first day of Dean's senior year was tomorrow. John knew he had to take time out for Dean, but it chafed him to be in one place for so long when he knew the thing that had murdered his wife and baby boy was still out there hurting people. He'd be relieved when he and Dean could devote themselves to finding the demon full time.

---

Dean managed to get detention the first week of school. He thought he might already have senioritis 'cause he was having a hell of a time getting to school on time. He'd been late three days this week, which had landed him in the freakin' cafeteria on a Friday afternoon.

"This sucks," he muttered, turning to scowl out the window. _Well, at least I have entertainment!_

There were three kids skating in the parking lot. He tended to find skaters incredibly annoying with their punk-ass attitudes tattoed on their foreheads and the obnoxious habit of nearly running down pedestrians as often as possible. However, he had to admit that some of the stuff they could do was pretty cool. The tallest kid was the best, it seemed. He was trying to show the other two how to do a jump where he flipped the board twice, caught the back edge in one hand and landed upright. The other two kept falling. Dean thought the tall kid probably had a unfair advantage with his Go-Go Gadget arms. It was weird that someone so lanky could move so smoothly.

"All right, you guys can go." The monitor announced, jerking Dean's attention back inside the cafeteria walls. "Have a good weekend and let's hope I don't see you back here next week."

Dean certainly hoped not, his Dad was gonna kill him as it was. He should have been at the shop half an hour ago.

---

"Hey!" Although the parking lot was crowed and chaotic, Dean was pretty sure that _hey_ was for him. He turned to see a vaguely familiar kid jogging towards him, back pack in one hand and a skateboard in the other. It clicked then, this was the tall kid he'd seen skating a couple of weeks ago.

"Hey," the kid said again once he reached Dean. He was clearly younger than Dean, but to Dean's chagrin the boy had at least two inches on him.

Dean raised a brow, "Yeah?"

Skater-boy shifted nervously and Dean cocked his head, interest piqued. Why on earth was this kid talking to him?

"Um- hi! I'm Sam," he held out one huge paw and Dean shook it, looking at the kid like he was crazy.

"I'm Dean- I'm sorry, _why_ are you talking to me?" he didn't mean to sound quite as snotty as that, but didn't exactly mind that he did either. It was just... there were rules in high school about this sort of thing. Skaters and metal-heads didn't _talk_ unless a teacher made them work together. Not that Dean was a metal-head really, he was kind of a clique unto himself.

His words turned Sam's nervous expression into a sour one. "Believe me, I'd rather not talk to you, but I don't really have a choice."

"Okay, and why is that?" Dean had been around enough crazy people to know things always went better if you humored them.

"Um- well, that's the- hey, is that your car?" Sam gestured abruptly at the Impala behind Dean.

Dean looked at the car and back at Sam, "Um yeah... dude, are you on _crack_??"

"Can we maybe talk in the car?" Sam held up his hands, "I'm not gonna put the moves on you, I swear! I just can't say what I have to tell you out here, where anyone could hear."

The whole thing was just bizarre enough that Dean decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"All right, kid." He got in the car and leaned over to unlock the passenger door. He threw his books and jacket in the back and turned to look at Sam expectantly, "Well, let's hear it."

Sam stared at his hands, playing with the hem of his long, baggy shorts. "So, I don't know you at all, right? Like, we don't have any classes together, no friends in common-" he sighed, "So why on earth would I be having dreams about you dying?"

Dean was too stunned to speak, but the kid still wasn't looking at him.

"You're in the woods and this thing, it looks sort of like a man, but it's limbs are stretched out all wrong and it's huge- I dunno, some kind of monster. Anyway, it gets you- rips your throat out, your entrails-"

"Hey," the kid was so upset, Dean couldn't help but reach out and lay a hand on his bony shoulder. Sam jumped and met Dean's eye for the first time since they got in the car. God, he looked terrified, eyes huge as a puppy's. "Sam, calm down, okay?"

The big eyes narrowed and Sam shrugged him off, "You don't believe me!" His mouth twisted and he laughed bitterly, "Of course you don't, sounds crazy- I wouldn't believe it either."

"Dude, I didn't say that. Trust me, I've heard way crazier shit than that."

Sam studied him skeptically for a long moment, "You have?"

Dean shrugged, "I have. I can't give you any details, but yeah, with all the crap I've been through you story just isn't that unbelievable. So, is that all?"

Sam's jaw dropped, "Is that _all_? Um, isn't that enough?"

"Well, specifics would be nice, you know. Like _when_ is this thing going to attack me? An actual location would be great- 'in the woods' is kind of general."

Sam shrugged, "I really don't know, the dream is a little different each time. Sometimes there's a man with you, he yells your name when it grabs you-," Sam was looking distinctly green around the gills, "That's one of the things that clued me in, made me think maybe it wasn't some random nightmare. I'd seen you around school, but had no idea who you were. The other day though, I heard one of your friends call you. I mean, I know I didn't _subconsciously _know your name. I'd never heard it until the man in my dream had to watch you get ripped apart. I think he's your dad, he goes a little crazy when it happens."

God, Dean couldn't even imagine what something like that would do to his dad. "What does he look like?"

"Well, it happens at night so it's hard to tell... I think he's a lot darker than you. Dark hair, beard and heavy eyebrows-" Sam's mouth snapped shut as his eyes suddenly focused on a spot over Dean's shoulder.

"Dean Winchester!" Lisa slid her hands around his neck from behind, sliding them down his chest. It was Sam's reaction more than anything else that made him uncomfortable. The kid had turned bright red and his eyes were as big as saucers.

Dean lifted Lisa's hands and turned to face her. She was leaning through the driver's side window in a most appealing manner. Really showed off her assets rather nicely. She leaned forward for a kiss before he could get a word out.

"Mmmm-" the sound of a car door closing nearby had him pulling away reluctantly. He turned back, but Sam was halfway across the parking lot. "Shit! Sorry, babe- I've gotta catch that kid." He pushed her back gently, "I'll call you later!"

She scowled, "You better!"

He started the car and caught up to Sam at the edge of the lot, "Sam!"

Sam looked over, startled. "Hey- what?"

"Let me give you a ride home."

Sam's brows rose, "You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Cool!" Sam grinned and Dean had to blink. The kid sure had some smile, dimples and blindingly white teeth. Dean couldn't help but return it.


	2. Chapter 2

Darkness heavy on his eyes, smell of blood and wet leaves thick in his nostrils. The screams were piercing even though his hands were clamped tightly over his ears. He had to open his eyes, had to help Dean, but he couldn't-

"Sam, SAM!" His mom's voice finally penetrated the darkness and Sam sat up so quickly he nearly knocked her off of his bed. She hung onto his arms and righted herself, "Sam, honey! It's over, it's okay!" She hugged him tightly and he gasped against her shoulder, allowing himself to be held and rocked.

Once his shaking had subsided, she pulled back to look into his face. "Sam, honey," she pushed his hair back and stroked his cheek, "It's getting worse. I really think you need to see someone about these nightmares."

"Mom, no. I told you, I'm already talking to someone at school about them." He hadn't bothered to tell her that this someone wasn't exactly a counselor.

She sighed, "All right, hon, but if I don't see an improvement soon I'm going to set you up with a psychologist. Sam-" her tone sharpened as he opened his mouth to protest. "You're young and high school is hard enough for the kids that manage to sleep through the night. I can't even imagine how hard it is to be plagued by these nightmares of yours. Baby," soft again, "you know how your dad and I feel. You're a gift and we're always going to do the best we can to protect you." She smiled wryly, "Even from nightmares."

"Mom, c'mon-" he pushed at her. He hated when she got all mushy on him.

She grinned and stood, mussing his hair. "Think you can go back to sleep?"

He looked at the clock, 4:18am. Nice. "I hope so."

"Thanks, Mom," softly spoken as she was closing the door behind herself.

She paused, "You're welcome, hon."

---

School that day was crap, as usual. He couldn't wait for the clock to hit three. He was supposed to hang out with Dean, which was still strange, but cool. He wasn't sure why, but they got along surprisingly well- as long as Dean didn't subject Sam to that Metallica shit. Vice versa, Dean had no tolerance for any of the music Sam liked. Dean had pushed Sam on that a couple of times. He stopped when his last attempt to make Sam listen to Exodus caused Sam to jump out of the car while it was moving. Well, it hadn't been moving that fast and it wasn't like Sam didn't know how to take a fall. It had been worth it to see the look on Dean's face when he'd stopped the car in a panic and run back to check on Sam. More importantly, Dean finally agreed that when they were in the car there would be no music.

It had been almost a month since Sam approached Dean in the parking lot after school, but he was still having the nightmares. Dean didn't seem particularly worried about it, but really- who knew what Dean was thinking. For as simple as Dean pretended to be, Sam got the impression there was a lot going on beneath the surface.

Sam tended to think of himself as an individual, but now that he'd met Dean he had to re-think that. Because really, Sam was just like most of his friends. He dressed like them, talked like them and as much as he hated to admit it, probably thought like them. He didn't know anyone like Dean though. Dean had friends in just about every circle. Well, he had _girl_friends in every circle. Most of the guys didn't care for him at all, but they left him alone. Sam had wondered about that until he saw Dean fight. Sam smirked to himself, if he'd been as pretty a guy as Dean he'd have learned to fight like that too.

Sam could tell Dean hated it, but he _was_ awfully pretty. Fairer than Sam and freckled, his big green eyes were framed with the most ridiculous lashes. Any girl would be jealous. He also had a girl's mouth, which Sam already felt perfectly comfortable teasing him about.

Dean was a senior and Sam was a sophomore. It was strange when someone you'd known as one of the nameless shadows on the periphery of your existence became real to you. He tried not to, but he felt himself starting to look up to Dean. Someone who, if Sam had even noticed him before his dreams, he'd had nothing but scorn for. In Sam's book, no one _cool_ wore leather jackets or had a buzz cut or- God forbid- wore _Nuclear Assault_ t-shirts. The facts were, however, Dean was older and Dean was cooler.

Part of him hoped they'd be friends even after they figured out what Sam's dreams were about.

---

Dean was leaning against the Impala, making out with some girl.

Sam stopped far enough away that he didn't have to hear their smooching and cleared his throat obnoxiously.

Dean lifted one hand from the brunette's waist and held up a finger. Sam guffawed, walking forward to lean next to him on the car. Dean broke the kiss, frowning at Sam. He pasted on an angelic smile and turned back to his latest girl.

"Sorry Kat, I gotta give this kid a ride home today. I'll see you tomorrow night, right?"

She smiled sweetly and Sam had to give Dean credit, he did know how to pick 'em. This girl was gorgeous.

"All right, Dean. Bye, _kid_." She threw the last at Sam over her shoulder as she left.

He snorted, "Sorry, didn't mean to upset one of your harem."

Dean whacked him on the back of the head, "Behave, brat. Okay, let's see what my dad thinks of your... vision."

---

John was in his office when the boys arrived at the shop.

"Hey Dad, this is Sam."

John came around his desk and shook hands with his son's new friend. He studied the boy critically for a moment. He was taller than Dean and although Dean said he was fifteen, he looked about twelve. His clothes were at least three sizes too big, his shaggy brown hair curling wildly around his baby face. He was tan and looked athletic, Dean had said he was a skateboarder. With his over-sized hands and feet, he strongly reminded John of a puppy.

"Nice to meet you, Sam. Wow, looks like you're going to end up somewhere near seven feet tall. You get that from your dad?"

Sam turned bright red and smiled, "Who knows?" When they just looked at him blankly, Sam elaborated. "Oh, um- I was adopted."

"Ahh."

"Yeah, someone left me on my parent's doorstep with just a note telling them my name."

John patted Sam awkwardly on the shoulder, "Sorry to hear that, son."

Sam shrugged, "Nah, it's cool. My parents are great. I'm sure I'm better off with them than someone who didn't want me in the first place."

"I'm sure that's true," John shook his head. He couldn't imagine someone doing that to their baby. It didn't help that Sam shared his dead son's name, either. Time to change the subject. He turned and headed over to his mini-frigde, "You boys want something to drink? I've got Coke, water- sorry, no beer for you two. Make yourselves comfortable- from what Dean's told me, I think we may be here a while."

---

Dean watched his dad's interactions with Sam and was a bit surprised. John wasn't a bad father by any means, and Dean had never doubted his love, but with Sam he was almost like a stranger. He realized that he'd never really seen his dad interact with a "normal" kid. It had been he and his dad for as long as he could remember. Of course they'd met kids while they were hunting, but they hadn't been in one place long enough for Dean to see John around kids who weren't part of a job. They'd been in Texas for a couple of years now, but Dean rarely had his friends over. John hadn't forbidden it or anything, Dean just wasn't comfortable with the idea. He played a role when he was around his friends from school and had kept his house as a sort of sanctuary. It was the only place he felt comfortable letting his masks drop. Even with his girlfriends, he always went to _their_ house.

Dean had brought Sam to meet his dad because he thought they should tell Sam the truth. He believed Sam was having visions of his death and if that wasn't considered their kind of thing, he wasn't sure what was. In spite of his poor taste in music and clothing, Sam wasn't a bad kid. Dean could tell he was sincere and felt they could trust him with at least part of the truth. Actually, Dean was rather fond of him. The jumping-out-of-the-car stunt had probably been the deciding factor. He hadn't seen it coming and really admired that kind of spirit. He'd asked John if he could open up to Sam, but his father'd wanted to meet Sam first.

Dean had been worried his father's normally brusque manner would rub Sam the wrong way. His dad was a former Marine and it showed in most things he did. Sam didn't strike him as amenable to the military mindset. The kid lacked self-discipline (when he wasn't skating). Sam hated school and was one of those obnoxiously smart kids who never did their homework, but always aced the tests (Dean was the opposite). He could care less about his appearance and had very little respect for his elders. So yeah, Dean had been a little worried about bringing the two of them together. However, it seemed his fears were unfounded.

John had toned it down a lot for Sam. He was being almost gentle with the kid. Hmmph.

"Sam, can you tell me- is the moon visible in your dream?"

Sam closed his eyes, brows drawn as he tried to recall what he'd seen. "I don't think so, but I'm not sure if that's because it's cloudy or what. The ground is wet, but I don't remember rain..."

"There are a lot of leaves on the ground, right?"

"Yeah and the trees are bare, so... winter probably."

"I think you're right." John looked at Dean, who nodded. "Sam, what time do your parents expect you home?"

"Well, they don't get home until six- why?"

"Would you like to have dinner with us? There's something I want you to look at, might help us figure out what you're seeing in your dream."

There was the smile, "Sure, I'll call my mom."

Dean looked at his Dad and wasn't surprised when he returned Sam's smile full force. Dean doubted there was a person alive who could resist those dimples.

---

John handed his journal over to Dean, "Show Sam anything you think may match what he's talking about. I'll call you down when dinner's ready. Sam, hamburgers okay with you?"

"Sounds good, thanks."

They settled side by side on Dean's bed.

"So, what is this?"

"It's a journal my dad put together. My family's really into folklore and urban legends. It's kind of like a hobby for us to study this stuff."

Sam quirked a brow, then lifted one bony shoulder, "Okay, that's cool." He frowned at the journal, "Is it... organized?"

Dean grinned, "Not exactly." He thumbed it open and paged through to the first humanoid creature in the book, "Does he look familiar?" He pointed at a crudely drawn Sasquatch.

Sam squinted, "I don't think so. What else you got?"

He carefully scrutinized every page Dean stopped on, but nothing seemed to match the monster in his dreams.

"Dammit!" Sam flung himself back on the bed, "What is this freakin' thing?"

Dean slapped him on the thigh, then turned to smirk at him over his shoulder. "Don't get too comfy there, you're not really the type I bring to bed."

Sam felt himself go red, "Oh, shut up!"

Dean grabbed his ankle and stood, pulling Sam off the bed to fall on his ass.

"Son of a-" Sam launched himself at Dean, taking him out at the knees. Dean was laughing at him and he _hated_ that.

He wrestled Dean down, straddling him and grinning triumphantly. "Proud of yourself, huh?" Dammit, why was Dean still acting so superior?

"Ye-" Sam's response was cut short as Dean flipped him effortlessly.

"I'm sorry, you were saying?"

"I hate you so much."

Dean laughed again, but helped him up. "Yeah, yeah. Let's go see if we can help my dad."

---

They met in the library the next day after school and pored through everything they could find on creepy monster mythology. After about an hour, Dean found himself studying Sam more than _The Choking Doberman and Other "New" Urban Legends. _

"So what's the deal, Sam? Why don't you have a girlfriend?" It had been bothering Dean for a while. Sam was a cute kid and it wasn't natural for a guy their age to be single, in Dean's opinion anyway. He smirked when his question caused Sam to blush furiously. This kid was too easy.

"Maybe I don't _want_ a girlfriend, okay? Maybe there just isn't anyone I want to date. I'm not gonna just sleep with whoever." Dean eyed him skeptically and Sam huffed, "Sheesh, not everyone is a man-whore like you."

"Hey! I'm not a man-whore!"

Sam just looked at him.

"Well, maybe a little," he relented, "but I didn't say you had to be like me. Obviously that would be impossible, but you can work with what God gave you. C'mon, what's the problem?"

Now he was getting the full-force Sam glare, "I am not discussing this with you. Focus, Dean! We have more important things to worry about."

"You're gay!"

Sam blinked. He looked completely incredulous, like Dean'd just said the most retarded thing in the world and really, those were the kinds of looks Dean lived for. Then he shook his head, picked up a stack of books and carried them to the table farthest from Dean.

Dean laughed and turned back to his own stack of books. He wasn't sure how long he was reading before Sam thunked a book in front of him. He looked up to say something less than pleasant, but stopped short at Sam's expression. He was grinning from ear to ear and Dean's thoughts scattered.

"Hah! Got it!" He pointed at the half man, half tree thing on the page.

"A _leszi?" _

"Yeah, I really think that's it."

"It can't be, a leszi wouldn't attack someone- not like you described. No way."

"Dean, this is it! Look, it's a wood spirit right? It's tall and grotesque and-"

"Sam, they're not malicious-"

"Hey Sam! What's up?" They were interrupted by a stocky, pimply-faced kid in a Skinny Puppy t-shirt.

Sam jumped and looked guilty as hell. Dean didn't know what that was all about.

"Hey Mark, um- just studying." Dean looked at him expectantly. "This is my- tutor, Dean. Dean, my friend Mark."

Mark looked at Dean derisively, "Yeah, whatever. Hey, you skating tomorrow or what? We're starting to think you don't love us anymore."

While Dean was fuming and planning to run Mark's board over, Sam laughed and hit the guy on the back. "Yeah man, I'll be there. What time?"

"Cool. We're meeting at eleven." They shook hands, "See you there!"

Without glancing at Dean, Mark turned and disappeared into the rows of bookshelves.

Sam fidgeted for a bit before turning back to Dean.

"Nice friend you got there, Sam."

"Er, yeah. Sorry about that." He folded his lanky self into the chair next to Dean and slumped his shoulders.

"Hey, it's no big deal. What's wrong?"

"I don't know, just tired I guess."

"All right, well looks like we're done here. I'll take this and see what my dad thinks." He stood and started gathering up books. "I'll see you Monday?"

"Sure." Sam seemed off, but Dean didn't think he'd be able to make the kid talk and he had a hot date to get ready for.

"Have fun skating," he threw over his shoulder on his way out.

"Yeah, thanks. Later."


	3. Chapter 3

"Dean- Dean-"

"Sam, what's wrong?" Dean sat up, looking at the clock. Sam calling him at 2:30am Saturday night/Sunday morning was _not_ normal.

"Dean- oh God-" Sam was panting, sobbing even?

Dean jumped out of bed, pulling on clothes one handed while keeping the phone to his ear with the other. "Sam, where are you?"

"Oh God oh God-"

"Sam, listen to me!" Dean used the commanding tone he'd learned at an early age. "Tell me where you are. _Now_."

"Home. I'm at home," Sam whispered so softly Dean could barely hear it. Then there was a thunk as the phone was dropped and the unmistakable sound of someone throwing up.

Dean was panicking now, not sure if he should wake his Dad or not. Running through the house, he decided it would just take too long to stop and wake him.

---

Dean made sure he was armed as he cautiously approached Sam's home. The modest sized two-story was an almost picture perfect slice of suburbia, missing only a white picket fence. The Camry and the Accord were in the driveway so it looked like both of Sam's parents were home. There were a couple of lights on- one in the living room. Dean peered through the window, but couldn't see anything. He tried the front door and found it open.

"Dean? Is that you?" It sounded like Sam was in the kitchen.

"Sam, you alone?"

Sam laughed and it was the most horrible sound Dean had heard in a long time. "I am now."

"Holy- Jesus!" Dean gasped as he rounded the corner. Sam was sitting on the kitchen floor next to his mother's body. It looked like she'd been shot in the head. He was holding her hand, just sitting in the pool of her blood. He looked shattered; no longer crying, but his eyes were nearly swollen shut and his face streaked with tear tracks. He also had flecks of what looked like bile on his shirt and face. He lifted his face to Dean.

"Dad's upstairs."

"Dead?"

He nodded, looking back at his mom.

"Oh Jesus, Sam! Have you called 911?"

He shook his head, "Just you."

"Okay, okay." He knelt behind Sam and rubbed his back. He pulled out his phone and made the necessary calls. He also called his dad, asking him to bring an EMF reader. This didn't seem remotely supernatural, but old habits die hard and it couldn't hurt to be sure. He kept one hand on Sam the entire time, his presence being the only comfort he could offer.

---

Sam was released into John's custody with the understanding that his case would be reviewed Monday. His grandparents lived in Dallas, so he'd probably be sent to live with them.

Dean had gone through Sam's room and picked up some clean clothes. He'd been scrubbed down superficially at the hospital, but they hadn't been able to do anything about his clothes. As soon as they reached the Dean's house, he ushered Sam into the shower. The younger boy was clearly in shock. He would answer direct questions and could follow direction, but that was about it.

While Sam was in the shower, Dean went into the bathroom and replaced his ruined clothes with a clean pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. John came in as Dean was setting up an air mattress for Sam. He sat on Dean's bed and sighed heavily.

"You say the police think it was murder-suicide?"

Dean shrugged, "That's what I heard. Sam never said anything about his parents fighting, but I guess you never know."

"I don't think it was murder-suicide, the EMF readings were off the charts in the kitchen and in the bedroom."

Dean gaped in shock, "Are you sure?!"

"Yeah, I'm thinking possession, but why?"

"God only knows."

They both looked to the hallway as the water in the bathroom cut off.

John stood, "I'm going to see what I can find out about that house and Sam's parents. I want you and Sam to try to get some sleep, if you can." He took Dean's shoulders, "You did good tonight, son. You're a good friend."

Dean flushed; praise from his father was rare. "Thanks, Dad."

Sam appeared shortly after John's departure. Dean walked over to him and put his hand on the younger boy's nape. He studied him and felt an ache in his chest. Sam looked so frail, so broken.

"Hey Sam. Do you think you might want to lay down?"

Sam nodded and let himself be led to the air mattress. Dean got him settled and then went for the light.

"Can you-" Sam stopped to clear his throat, "Can you leave it on?"

"Sure."

He stepped over Sam's bed and climbed into his own. He felt Sam's anguish radiating off of him in waves and God help him, he had no idea what to do. He lay there staring at the ceiling. He didn't expect to sleep, but was surprised when he woke to the sound of gut-wrenching sobs. He sat up and moved cautiously to sit by Sam. The boy was curled up on his side, facing away from Dean.

"Sam." He lightly touched the shaking shoulders, pulling back when Sam rolled to face him. The next thing he knew he had a lapful of sobbing boy, all sharp bones and angles. He hesitated for a second in surprise and then hugged Sam tightly. "I'm sorry, Sam. I'm so sorry."

Sam clung to Dean, soaking his shoulder with tears and snot.

"I- I was at a party and it was-" Dean tried half-heartedly to shush him, but was glad he was finally talking. "It was a crappy party- I didn't really- I didn't want to be there. I co- I could've stopped it, if I- if I'd been home they- I know they'd still be alive. Dean, I'm so sorry! I had to wait for Mark- he was my ride." He moaned and rocked, "I should have just walked- why didn't I just walk?"

"Sam, Sammy, please. Shhhhh- there was nothing you could've done." Dean tucked Sam's head under his chin and cradled the anguished boy's cheek. "No way you could've known-"

Sam pushed away from him forcefully at that, "I should have! Why- why have I seen your death and not theirs!?"

Dean held up his hands, "I don't know, there's a lot neither one of us knows about that. Sam, you can't control what you see, what you dream. You can't change the past either, I'm sorry. Look, there's something you should know..." Dean trailed off, realizing he should check with his dad before he told Sam too much.

"What?" Sam looked so desperate for something that could convince him that his parents' death wasn't his fault. Dean had it and it wasn't in him to keep it from Sam.

"My dad and I don't think the police are right."

Sam's brow furrowed, "What do you mean? I don't think it was a robbery either, nothing was disturbed or missing..."

Dean bit his lip, "No, we don't think it was a robber. Umm, you remember how I told you it was a family hobby of ours to study urban legends and stuff?"

Sam nodded, hand flying to his nose as the movement dislodged that which should not be dislodged. Dean grabbed some tissues off the dresser and handed them over. Sam managed to smile sheepishly, "Thanks."

"Well, we don't just study that stuff, we fight it. That's why I didn't have any trouble believing you when you told me about your dream. You've heard that things usually become cliché because they're true, right? Well, it's the same with urban legends and folklore. Those stories are usually based on something that actually happened. Granted, they get pretty twisted up in the multiple re-tellings..." Sam was just looking at him blankly, "Umm, the point is that my dad found energy traces in your house that shouldn't have been there. We think something supernatural was involved in your parents' death."

He waited anxiously for Sam to absorb what he was saying. Sam studied his face for a long moment before his raising his eyebrows, "You shittin' me, Dean? Just trying to distract me or make me feel better?"

"No, I swear! I wouldn't do that, Sam." He tried to put as much sincerity as he could into his expression.

Sam shook his head, "All right, Dean, I believe you. Stop making that face, you look constipated."

Dean couldn't help but laugh, as a knot in his chest loosened. He didn't know why Sam's belief was so important to him, but it was. Sam smiled in response, but his bottom lip trembled and he stood quickly.

"I've gotta wash my face. Sorry about your shirt."

"It's no problem." Dean watched him walk out of the room, then turned back to his dresser. He changed into a clean t-shirt and went to look for his dad. It was already 8:00am, so he'd gotten about three hours of sleep- more than he'd expected. He was sure Sam hadn't slept at all and knew he wouldn't until exhaustion knocked him out. He really hoped his dad had found something they could go on. As of Monday, Sam was probably going to end up miles away, living with his grandparents. Dean was thankful that Sam had family, he just wasn't sure he'd be safe with them.

He found his dad in the den, still at the computer. "Any luck?"

"I think I may have found something, but need to make a couple of calls to be sure."

Dean frowned. Judging from his dad's expression, there was more going on here than a run-of-the-mill possession. "What is it, Dad?"

"I'd rather not say just yet." He stood and seemed to shrug off his apprehension, "How about you help me make breakfast? I'm hoping we can come up with something tempting enough to get Sam to eat."

Dean was used to receiving as little information as possible from John, but the older he got the more aggravating it became. He bit his tongue and followed the older man into the kitchen, realizing that now was not the best time argue. He didn't want any more stress in this house than necessary today.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam leaned over the bathroom sink and rubbed cold water over his face. "Stop crying, stop cryi-" his throat closed and he collapsed to the floor. He gripped the sink tightly, resting his forehead against the cool porcelain. "Oh God, oh God-" broken whispers through clenched teeth. "I can't believe this is happening. I can't _believe _this is happening!"

He released the sink and and fell back, wrapping his arms around his knees. In spite of what Dean had told him, Sam still believed things would've gone differently if he'd been home last night. A sudden knock startled him from his dark, spiraling thoughts.

"Sam!" Dean called through the door.

He took a deep breath and tried to sound normal, "Yeah?"

"Breakfast is ready. Do you think you can eat?"

"I'm not hungry, thanks though."

"Okay, Sam. Let me know if you need anything."

"I will, thanks Dean." He couldn't face Dean or his dad right now. He was on the very edge and felt that one more kind word or gesture would shatter him into a thousand pieces.

---

"He still in the bathroom?"

"Yeah. I know we have to give him his space, I just-" Dean broke off, frustration evident. He chewed his torn thumbnail and paced the kitchen.

"I know you want to help. Dean, sit please." John needed to tell his son what he'd found out.

Dean sat across from him, resting his elbows on the table and still chewing on his thumb.

"I've talked to Caleb and Jim, double-checked a couple of things... Do you remember why we moved here?"

"'Cause it's mom's hometown?"

"That was part of it, yes. The other part was the notable paranormal activity in the area. Notable to me, anyway. Atmospheric anomalies, cattle deaths- nothing overtly malevolent." John rubbed his face wearily, "Dean, you know I've been working on a system to track the demon that killed your mom, right?" At Dean's nod, he continued, "I didn't realize soon enough, didn't put it together- it's the same kind of stuff that started happening in Lawrence before your mother was killed." He sat forward anxiously, "Dean, I think whatever happened to Sam's parent's is linked to that demon, our demon. I can't believe I didn't think of it sooner! If I had-"

Dean interrupted him, "So what if you had? God, Dad! If you thought that thing was here, wouldn't you have expected it to come after us? Not Sam, not his family." He shook his head, "If it's The Demon, why did it go after Sam's family? What's the link? Is it because Sam's my friend?"

"I haven't figured that out yet. There's still so much we don't know!" He hit the table. He hated feeling so helpless.

"Dad, we need to focus on Sam. We're gonna lose him tomorrow. What can we do in one day?"

"I've been thinking about that, too. Son, it looks like finishing high school may have to wait. I don't think we can just let Sam go, but legally we can't keep him."

"What if he wants to stay here? What if his grandparents give consent?"

"That would be great, but _we_ can't stay here either. Now that we know the demon is here we have to hit the road again."

"So, what? You want to take Sam with us?" John smiled weakly at Dean's complete incredulity.

"Yeah, but we need to talk to Sam about all of this. He needs to understand what's happening, what he'll be getting into." Dean gaped at him wordlessly. John didn't know how to explain his strong paternal feelings for Sam. He supposed he'd have felt the same for any friend of Dean's- if the life they'd lived had allowed Dean friends before.

Dean finally raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat, "Well, I did tell him some stuff..."

"What kind of stuff?"

He shifted guiltily, "Kind of told him we fight monsters and that we think it was something supernatural that got his parents."

"And I still think he's crazy," Sam spoke from the kitchen archway. John stood and smiled at him gently. The boy looked terrible and John couldn't help himself.

"Sam," he pulled the pallid boy into his arms, hugging him tightly. Sam resisted for a moment then relaxed into the hug, dropping his head to John's shoulder. His arms came up, fisting the material at the back of John's shirt. "I'm so sorry, Sam."

Sam trembled and John rubbed his back as the boy fought to hold it together. John let him go when Sam pulled back. There were tears standing in his eyes, but John could tell he was determined not to let them fall.

"Thanks," he whispered, looking at the floor. "Um, what were you guys talking about?"

"Sit and we'll tell you. You want anything to eat? We have pancakes, eggs, bacon..."

"No, but some water would be great." He sat next to Dean, but wouldn't meet his eyes. He kept his gaze on the table.

---

Dean watched Sam closely as his dad basically told him their life story. Sam's face didn't tell him much, but his body did. It was in the tense line of his shoulders, the way his fingers couldn't stop moving and the way he chewed his lower lip. Sam believed them and he was scared. Dean was thankful that they were able to pull him out of his grief, even if it was only for a little while.

"I can't just go with you guys. The police know I'm with you, they'd probably think I was kidnapped and I don't want to worry my grandparents. After- I just can't do that to them."

"Sam, I hear what you're saying and I don't want to scare you, but we're afraid they may be hurt if you're with them." John leaned forward, hands on his knees.

"What if you go with them and then run away? Leave them a note telling them you'll be in touch? You can write them while we're on the road and let them know you're okay." Dean touched Sam's arm, trying to get him to look up. When Sam raised his head, Dean added as seriously as he could, "Unfortunately, you'll have to miss school until we feel like it's safe to settle somewhere."

"Ha," Sam shook his head, "Now you've convinced me." He stood, "Let me think about this, okay? It's a lot to absorb."

"Of course."

Once Sam was gone, Dean quirked an eyebrow at his dad. John shrugged, "If he doesn't want to come with us, we follow him. We'll keep a close eye on him and the grandparents. Besides, I haven't been to Dallas in a while and have a couple of old friends there it'd be good to see."

- - -

Dean made himself busy around the house, helping his dad pack for a few hours before checking on Sam. Sam was on his bed, curled up on his side again with his back to the door. Dean knew he was awake because he tensed when Dean entered the room.

"Hey," Dean said lamely.

"Hey, s'okay I'm on your bed?" Sam kept his back to Dean and Dean winced at the raw sound of his voice.

"Of course, man." Dean sat on the foot of the bed, resting one hand on Sam's calf. "I just put you on the air mattress 'cause everyone says it's more comfortable."

Sam shrugged, but said nothing.

"If you wanted, I could head over to your house and pick up some more of your stuff?"

He was completely horrified when Sam made this sound, somewhere between a wail and a gasp, and curled even tighter in on himself- burying his face in Dean's pillow as his entire body shook with renewed sobbing. He scooted up the bed and sort of lay across Sam's back, holding his shoulders.

"Sammy, just let it go- that's it," Dean tucked his head against Sam's and spoke into his ear. He knew that sometimes when you were hurt badly, you just needed a touch, a reminder that you weren't alone. They lay like that for a long time, Dean muttering soothing nonsense and stroking Sam's back. He seemed so frail as Dean's hands traced his bony scapula and over the knobs of his spine. Dean felt a fierce protectiveness for this boy that he'd never felt for anyone. He silently prayed that Sam would decide to come with them. He wanted to be there when Sam remembered how to smile, wanted to see those dimples again. He also desperately wanted to show Sam how to fight, how _not_ to be a victim.

- - -

John looked up when Dean came down the stairs.

"He's coming with us. Well, he'll go with them tomorrow, but then run away."

"Dean, I didn't think of this earlier, but if he does that he'll miss his parents' funeral."

"Yeah, we talked about that. He said he couldn't stand the thought of grieving in front of all those people anyway. We'll have to come back at some point and let him say his farewells."

"All right," he looked at the clock, 4:36pm. "We've got a lot of work to do. You know the drill, only pack what's necessary. I'm almost done down here, why don't you start upstairs?"


	5. Chapter 5

I am really sorry, but I won't be updating this story here again. It is completed at my livejournal and you can send me a message to request a link. However, it is explicit slash so please do not read if you are under 18 or this is offensive to you. I had intended a gen arc for this site, but am not sure when I'll get to that.


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